


Doesn't Mean Imma Wear A Fucking Dress

by BloodiedLynx



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Ian Gallagher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 11:31:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16786120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodiedLynx/pseuds/BloodiedLynx
Summary: I think we know what's gonna happen here ;]





	Doesn't Mean Imma Wear A Fucking Dress

~Mickey’s P.O.V.~

“C’mon Mickey, please?” Ian whined, grabbing at my sweatshirt. I furrowed my eyebrows and pushed him away by his forehead, snickering when he almost tripped and fell over the couch. Ian looked at me with his eyebrows raised challengingly and I smiled sweetly back.

Ian advanced towards me and I went to run away from him, but he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into his chest. I put my hands over his and leaned my head back on his shoulder, feeling as he swayed us gently.

Ian leaned down and started trailing his lips up my neck, making a laugh bubble it's way up my throat. He nipped at the sensitive skin and ran his hands over my stomach, slowly running them down to the top of my jeans. He popped the button and unzipped the fly, slowly creeping his hand underneath.

“Hmm, no underwear?” He mumbled by my ear, gently taking my member in his hand and stroking lightly. A breath escaped my lips and I turned my head towards his face. He connected our lips and I lifted my hand to put on his neck. I whimpered into his mouth when his hand sped up, nearly bringing me to the edge. But, before I could come, he stopped. I groaned and buried my head in his hair, panting.

“Either you wear the outfit, or I’ll leave you here all worked up.” Ian said huskily. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, shaking my head.

“No. I don’t wanna wear that fucking this.” I mumbled. Ian ran his hand up under my shirt and I swore lightly under my breath.

“Come one, Mick. You wore those fishnets one time.” Ian said into my adams apple.

“Doesn’t mean Imma wear a fucking dress.” I snapped, a blush creeping up my cheeks. Ian chuckled and started to pull his hands away from me before I spoke up.

“...Wait.”

~*~

“Aww, you look cute.” Ian said, grabbing for my waist. I crossed my arms and stepped back, pouting.

“I don’t wanna wear this.” I whined. Ian went for my waist again and he pulled me to him, resting his chin on my tummy. (A/N: He’s such a smol bean I stg)

“Mhm but Mick, I’m gonna fuck you in it.” He said with a smirk, running his hand up my thigh.

Ian made me put on a fucking dress with tights even. It was fucking uncomfortable, why to girls wear this bullshit. It’s riding up my fucking asscrack.

“Hurry up and fuck me then ‘cause I had places to be.” I said, checking my watch. I really didn’t have places to be but I wanted a quick and rough fuck, so.

“I know you’re lying just so you can have a quick and rough fuck but frankly I don’t care ‘cause that’s what you’re getting anyway.” Ian said, standing from the couch. He lightly pushed me into the kitchen and shoved me back against the table. My thighs hit it sharply and I grunted, being cut off by Ian slamming his lips to mine.

Ian lifted me up and put me on the table. I wrapped my left leg around his lower back and the other stayed beside Ian’s thigh. Ian pulled my bottom lip into his mouth and sucked harshly, causing me to moan. He dug his nails into my side and pulled me closer to him, grinding into me. I groaned and dug my dull nails into his shoulders, arching into him.

Pulling back, Ian pecked my nose as he reached both hands down to rip the tights off of me. He threw them over his shoulder and ran his hands up my thighs, dragging his nails across them.

“Get the lube, bitch.” I grunted. Ian snickered and pulled it out of his back pocket, immediately popping the cap. “Don’t worry about stretching me, already done.” I said breathily. Ian nodded and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them just below his thighs. He slicked himself up before grabbing my hips and wrapping my legs around him. He pushed the dress up and slowly pushed himself in, making sure I was okay.

“You can...move.” I said after a minutes. Ian pulled out and pushed back in a few times before speeding up, angling his hips at my prostate. I moaned and arched into him, my clothed chest rubbing against his naked one.

I slung my arm around his neck and dug my nails into the wooden table as he hit my prostate headon. I moaned and threw my head back, allowing him to suck on my neck.

Just then, I heard the front door slam open and I felt as Ian stilled. Fiona walked in, obviously not noticing us yet, and took of her winter clothes. When she turned around he gasped and slapped a hand over her eyes.

“Dammit you two! On our kitchen table? You guys are turning into Frank and Monica!” She growled. I buried my head in Ian’s shoulder as he rotated his hips, looking at Fiona.

“I really, really hope you know we’re not moving.” Ian said. She sighed and grumbled something under her breath before stomping upstairs.

Once Fiona was gone, Ian picked up where he left off. I kept my head buried in his neck and clutched Ian’s shirt in my hands. It didn’t take long before I screamed Ian’s name and came in between us, Ian following shortly after.

When Ian pulled out, he rebuttoned his come-covered pants and reached up to rub at his shoulder. When he pulled his hand back I saw that there was a little blood on his hand.

“Turn around.” I demanded. Ian complied and turned around, showing me his muscular. “So I mayyy have ripped your shirt and scratched you back.” I said, turning him back around.

“That’s hot.” He said, pulling the dress down again and lifting me up by my hips. I wrapped my legs around his waist and felt something poking at my thigh.

“You didn’t even go fucking soft, did you.” I said. He laughed and shook his head, carrying me up the stairs.

“Fiona! Might wanna go downstairs!” Ian shouted. I chuckled and bit at his chin. He shrugged and carried me to his room, shutting the door. He threw me onto the bed and crawled in between my thighs, dragging his tongue across my collarbone.

“Best believe I’m fucking you in this dress again.”


End file.
